


Orphans, Brawlers, Bawlers, and Bastards

by stefi



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alcohol Abuse, Arms trading, Character Death, Contract Killers, Crooked Cops, Drug Use, Explicit Language, F/F, F/M, Forgery, Gambling, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Murder, Nen-less AU, No powers? No problem!, Prostitution, Sexual Situations, Sexual Violence, Theft, Violence, self-destructive behaviors
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-06
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-05-31 17:21:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 12,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6479359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stefi/pseuds/stefi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meteor City is the last place anyone would choose to live, let alone die. It started here and it'll end here.</p><p>A nen-less Phantom Troupe AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pakunoda

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be a wild ride, gang. Please be warned that I rated this fic the way I did for a reason. There is heavy drug use, violence, and lots of criminal activity going on in this thing. If character deaths or homophobic slurs trigger you, you might want to stop here. This is a story about bad guys doing bad guy shit. I’ll preface each chapter with specific warnings about any possibly triggering content, but that's going to be pretty much every chapter. Don’t worry, I’ll be specific.
> 
> Short of the warnings, I do want to mention in case anyone gets confused, that this story is going to jump around in chronology quite a bit. Just because you read one chapter before another one, it doesn’t mean it takes place before it. Or after it. Once it's completely finished, I’ll post the order the chapters can be read in if you absolutely need things to be in chronological order.
> 
> Massive shout-out to my beta Ella. Thank you for letting me throw this awful and ugly AU at you. You're a truly superb friend and I don't deserve you <3
> 
> If you’re still on board, I truly hope you enjoy!

Pakunoda sits up in bed, her head pounding. She knows she had too much last night and judging by the smeared makeup still on Machi’s sleeping face, it's quite clear her girlfriend did as well. A glance at the alarm clock informs her she’s up late.

Very late.

She didn't set her alarm.

_Shit._

She scrambles from bed and into the bathroom for a shower. When she comes back to her bedroom to get dressed, Machi is awake and curled in a ball on the bed.

“Well, good morning to you,” Paku says, toeing her heels on.

Machi curls in tighter on herself and groans. “What time is it?”

“Late.” Paku sits by Machi on the bed and pets her rear end. “Open bar was a bad choice.”

“A very bad choice,” Machi agrees, pulling the blanket tight about her shoulders. “Remind me to never suggest it again.”

“Kalluto will do anything you say. They look up to you. Use it to your advantage.” Pakunoda says. “I’m going to open the shop,” she says, hoping for an easy day.

“Do you need me to come help?” Machi asks, in no shape to even entertain the thought of getting out of bed.

“I doubt you'd be of much use to me today,” Paku teases her. “Sleep, love.” She bends down to kiss to top of Machi’s pink hair.

Machi sighs and turns her head to kiss Paku’s cheek. “I’d give you a proper kiss, but it tastes like something died in my mouth.”

“Smells that way, too,” Paku teases her lightly. “I’ll come check on you in a bit.”

Machi grumbles and rolls over, shoving a pillow over her head. “Shut the lights off,” she complains.

 

 

The walk to her shop is a short one and Pakunoda’s not even all the way inside when the tiny bell above the door rings.

“You’re late,” her customer complains.

Pakunoda smiles. “Back so soon?” She turns to face her best customer.

Phinks approaches the counter, badge around his neck, and two coffees in his hands. He slides one of them toward Pakunoda. He looks like he hasn't slept and there’s at least two days’ worth of stubble on his face. “Yup,” is all he says. “I need a new plant gun. Ditched the last one a couple nights ago.”

Pakunoda lifts the lid on her coffee to inspect its color. Deeming it worthy, she replaces the lid and takes a sip. No sugar. Perfect. "Already? You just bought that last one a week ago… Do I even want to ask what's going on?" she asks him.

"It’s probably best that you don’t," Phinks says, sipping his own coffee. His unoccupied hand fidgets with his badge. The gold shield is scuffed and the leather it's mounted to looks cracked and weathered. He seems miserable.

"Seen Feitan around?" Paku asks.

"You know I haven't. Not since the incident." It’s easy for them both to call it an ‘incident’ rather than talk about what happened the night Phinks appeared on her doorstep, soaking wet and sobbing. Phinks can pretend he doesn’t have a problem. Pakunoda can ignore his behavior and not address the issue. It's simpler this way.

Pakunoda frowns. She liked Feitan. He was strange, but he was good for Phinks. In his way. "Shame."

Phinks rolls his eyes. "Whatever. How was your shindig last night?" He leans forward, his elbows on the counter. “You get to schmooze with the Zoldycks?”

"No. And we're still recovering." Paku sips her coffee, then wrinkles her nose at his proximity. "You smell like a whorehouse."

Phinks shrugs.

"You haven’t showered or shaved in what looks like days,” she points out. “No one at the station has said anything to you?"

"No one at the station fucking cares, Paku. They're all as bad as me, or worse." Phinks pulls out his lighter and a cigarette. “Can I smoke in here?” He lights up before she answers him.

She shakes her head ‘no’. He blows smoke up at the ceiling fan. He’s always been exasperating, but lately he’s so much worse. "Phinks, you're my brother and I love you, so I'm allowed to say this: you look like shit."

"I've been working more hours lately," he says. And it's the truth. She’d know instantly if he were lying. He’s a terrible liar. It’s what he does during work that worries her.

  
"Look. I won’t sugar-coat it. Shizuku told Machi what happened the night you showed up at her house," Paku confronts him.

"Given Shizuku’s memory, I find that hilarious." Phinks scoffs, ashing his cigarette into the little tray for spare change. “You girls just can’t keep anything quiet, can you?”

"I’m starting to worry about you. You need to straighten your act out."

" _Straighten_ my act out…? Cute, coming from a dyke." Phinks spits.

Paku frowns. When backed into a corner, Phinks always does this. She hates that he hates himself so much. "Not as cute as your own internalized homophobia," she snipes right back. "You could have died if…” She sighs and starts over. “Call Feitan, won't you? You were less... self-destructive when you were together."

"We weren't together, Paku." He argues.

"Weren't you?"

"If looking at him while I drill my dick into a hooker counts as being together, then maybe?" He says, his coffee spilling.

Pakunoda folds her arms. "That's a bit more information than I would have liked."

"Then don't pry," he warns her.

Paku puts her hands up, palms out. “Well, if he was nothing else to you, he was certainly your friend. You two should make up.”

“Ain't happening,” Phinks says, frowning. He takes out his money clip and drops it on her counter, not bothering to count the amount for the gun out. It’s all there and then some, Paku’s sure. "Enjoy your coffee. Thanks for this." He takes the gun from the counter and shoves it into the back of his pants before exiting the shop.

“Get some sleep!” Pakunoda calls after him. She sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose, sitting down. "You're so fucked up," she says after he's left.

 

 


	2. Phinks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feitan and Phinks have a bad night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In addition to a drug overdose, this chapter involves the violent death of a sex worker. If you’d rather not read those parts, I understand fully. You can read most of this chapter and stop when you see this: ** 
> 
> Please understand that it's not simply here for shock value.

"So, who's your next mark?" Phinks asks, one hand on the steering wheel, the other wrapped around a paper bag wrapped around a 40.

"That's on a need-to-know," Feitan says quietly. He picks at the long fingernail on his smallest finger, not looking at the blond in the driver's seat.

"To keep you out of jail, I kinda need to know," Phinks tells him. He tosses the 40 out his window and revels in the sound of the breaking glass hitting the pavement.

"Your knowing makes you look better as a cop, but it doesn't help me at all." Feitan says and Phinks knows he's right.

It’s quiet for a moment. Phinks fishes a small plastic bag from his pocket. He takes his car key from the ignition and scoops some cocaine from the bag, cupping his hand under it. "I'm gonna go to that cathouse. Wanna come with me? I'll buy you a girl." He snorts the rail on his key, then tilts his head back. With a sigh, he looks over to Feitan, pupils dilated. "We could even share one, if you want." He licks his lips and wants Feitan to say ‘yes’.

Feitan shrugs. "I'll come along for the ride, but I'm not really interested in sharing." He takes the plastic bag from Phinks' hand and digs his pinkie finger inside it, scooping himself some cocaine onto his long fingernail. He sniffs it up, then tilts his head back as well. His heart starts to race a moment later.

"Ah, you never are," he teases. "Will you come inside, at least? Keep me company?" Phinks sounds almost hopeful.

"If that's what you want," Feitan says, hands digging into his pockets.

"I think it is," Phinks says, then he starts the car. There's still coke on the key. "Do you ever get like... I dunno... jealous?"

"Do you want me to be jealous?" Feitan asks him.

 _Yes._ "I'm not sure. I don't care, I guess." Phinks backpedals. "It was a stupid question, forget I asked." The ride over is a quiet one.

Feitan sighs when Phinks parks the car. "Still want me to go inside with you?"

"Yeah," Phinks says quietly. "If you want, I mean."

"Whatever," Feitan says dismissively.

They enter the whorehouse and Phinks is greeted instantly. "There he is! My Instant Lover~" a tall woman coos. Her fingers toy with the badge hanging from Phinks' neck. "I missed you, officer."

Feitan rolls his eyes at their exchange. Phinks knows Feitan hates this place. He feels the slightest bit of guilt, but it only lasts for a half a second.

"Is your cute little friend finally going to join us this time?" She's asking Phinks, but she's looking at Feitan.

Feitan shakes his head. “Absolutely not.”

"Aww," Phinks' latest regular girl, Baise, tuts. "Afraid you can't handle me, big boy?"

Feitan calmly informs her "I have no interest in spit roasting a piece of dirty pussy. But thank you, anyway."

Phinks tries not to laugh while the hooker gasps, offended.

"I'll go get our room ready, then," she says, red-faced, before storming off.

"That was really brutal, dude." Phinks tells Feitan, laughing. He wipes at his nose with the back of his hand.

"I know it was." Feitan says. "That was my intent."

"So you _do_ get jealous," Phinks teases him.

"Shut up."

Minutes later, they're in the room. Feitan sits in a chair by the door while Phinks thrusts unmercifully into Baise. Phinks holds her face down into the mattress, eyes on Feitan's.

Feitan’s eyes travel from Phinks' face, down his chest to where his dick keeps disappearing inside the hooker. Phinks' big hands hold her down between her shoulder blades and he's got a fistful of her hair, keeping her head where it is. He's not looking at her at all. She might as well not even be in the room.

But Phinks needs to fuck _something_.

Feitan barely hears it when Baise gasps out another offer to him.

"I won't even charge you extra," she hisses.

"Shut up," Phinks warns her. He wrenches her head to the side so she can't see Feitan. "Don't talk to him. I'm not paying you to fucking talk to him."

She starts laughing, her legs kicking out from under her as Phinks slams inside her, his pace unforgiving.

"What's so funny?" Phinks demands. He shakes her by the shoulders and she bounces from the bed.

Baise keeps laughing. "You wouldn't have to pay me if you could bring yourself to fuck _him_ , isn't that right?"

Phinks backhands her. "I told you to shut up."

"What are you going to do? Arrest me, officer?" Baise laughs.

  
Feitan’s high starts to wear off. “He knows better than that,” he says quietly. “If he took you to the station, you’d run your mouth.” He reaches back into Phinks’ jacket (he’s had it draped over his shoulders this whole time) and pulls the small plastic bag from the pocket. He makes a swipe with his pinkie finger into the bag and inhales the cocaine from it. What doesn't make it into his nose, he scrubs against his gums.

“Fei, gimme the rest,” Phinks says.

Feitan looks from Phinks, to Baise on the bed, then to the bag of cocaine. He frowns. “Right now?”

Phinks nods, licking his lips. His hips snap forward into Baise. He’s rough with her. “I want you to come over here,” he pants. Baise sobs under him, her painted fingernails dig into the mattress.

Feitan is on his feet, then on his knees on the bed beside Phinks. He scrapes what’s left of the powdery substance out of the bag with his fingernail and cups his other hand beneath it to catch anything that escapes. Phinks leans down and snorts the drug up, his hands holding Feitan’s. Once it's inhaled, Phinks eyes roll into the back of his head and he wipes at his nose with the inside of his wrist.

Phinks growls and digs his fingers into Baise’s wide hips. He pounds into her in short, violent thrusts. When he cums, he pulls himself out, peels the condom off, and shoots his load up her back and shoulders. He yanks Feitan against him to kiss him harshly. It’s all tongue and teeth and the chemical tingle of coke between them.

“I’m trying,” Phinks sighs against his mouth. “I’m trying so fucking hard, Fei.” Their foreheads press together.

“I know you are,” Feitan says. His thumb brushes Phinks’ bottom lip. Phinks flinches and pulls away. Feitan stills. Baise has her hands on Feitan’s thighs.

“It’s your cute little friend’s turn now,” she says. **

Phinks grabs her by her shoulders and slams her onto her back on the bed. “You don't touch him,” he hisses. “ _No one_  touches him.” His hand is around her throat. “Do you understand?”

Baise bats her hands feebly at Phinks’ chest, her nails raking into his shirt. A button comes flying off. Phinks’ grip tightens. “If you _ever_ touch him with your filthy whore hands again-”

She’s laughing at him again. “You're jealous,” she chokes out.

“This isn’t funny, you bitch,” Phinks hisses as grip around her throat tightens. “Stop laughing at me!”

She doesn’t. Not until there’s a distinct, but soft noise. The sound of Baise’s trachea crumbling. Phinks has never known his own strength.

“Shit,” Feitan breathes.

Phinks looks from his hands to Feitan, then to Baise. “I didn’t think--”

Feitan raises a hand, dismissive. “It’s fine. Let’s get her in the car. We’ll burn her like we did the last one. Can’t have your DNA all over her.”

Phinks stands and pulls his pants back up. “Fuckin’ A,” he complains. He rips the sheet from the bed and wraps the dead woman in it. She’s limp in his arms when he picks her up and they’re almost out the door when something falls from her body.

Feitan bends down to retrieve it. He stands, a small plastic bag in his fingers. The powdery substance inside is a dingy white color. “This looks dirty,” Feitan says, nose wrinkling.

“Don’t be a snob. I’ve gotten coke here hundreds of times.” Phinks says, carrying Baise to the car. None of the girls in the whorehouse pay any mind. It’s a common sight for Phinks to leave with a wasted girl. If anyone ever asked, he’d tell them ‘She went to jail’.

The truth is this is the third hooker Phinks has accidentally killed and the girls working here are starting to get suspicious.

The truth is it's going to be a really bad night.

Phinks tosses Baise into the backseat before getting into the car. Feitan is already inside, examining the contents of the plastic bag. His thin eyebrows are furrowed, studying it.

“You worry too much,” Phinks tsks, snatching the bag away. “You're just used to the good shit I bring you from drug busts. This stuff is alright, too. You just gotta do more of it to stay fucked up.”

Feitan sighs. “If you say so.”

“Trust me,” Phinks says, sticking his key into the bag. “I’m a professional.” He lifts the key to his nose and snorts up the powder. A moment passes between them. “Fuck,” he mumbles, hands flying to his nose. He’s wiping at his nose and blowing blood from it. “That’s…” He starts, sleepily. His head lolls to the side. “S’ heroin, Fei.”

“Oh, fucking fantastic,” Feitan complains. He shoves Phinks’ head back upright. “You _idiot_.”

Phinks’ eyelids droop and his jaw slackens. “Think m’dying,” he slurs. He drops his car key and the bag falls to the armrest between them.

Feitan grabs the bag and tosses it out his window. “I can’t believe this,” he says to himself. He slaps Phinks hard across the face. “Stay awake, dummy.”

Phinks straightens in his seat and starts to drool. “W’gotta go t’Franklin’s place.”

“I’m taking your stupid ass to the hospital,” Feitan protests.

“S’fine, babe. He’s a doctor,” Phinks mumbles. His eyes drift shut again.

Feitan gets out of the car and shoves Phinks across the front seat until he's slouched on the passenger’s side. His bloody nose presses against the glass of the window. It leaves a trail of blood and snot as Phinks slumps against the door. “If you die, I’ll _kill_ you,” he threatens Phinks.


	3. Kortopi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chrollo and Kortopi make a business transaction over ice cream.

It’s nearly four o’clock when he finally appears, spooning ice cream into his mouth. “Sorry I’m so late,” he says, sitting down across from his associate. ”An ice cream truck drove by. Can you believe they still have those? And _here_ of all places?” He smiles like a child. “The novelty was too good to pass up. I’m sure you understand.” He dabs gently at the corner of his mouth with the handkerchief in his jacket pocket.

Kortopi finds he can’t be upset. Not when the promise of a job of this caliber is on the table. And anyway, he likes ice cream, too. On the cafe table in front of him sits a milkshake, most of the way gone. Condensation creates a sweaty puddle around the cup and he drags his fingers through it. “It’s no worry. I’ve been keeping myself entertained.”

“Perfect. Let’s get down to business, then.” Chrollo sets the briefcase down on the small table. He turns it toward his companion after opening it. "Do you think you can do it?"

The diminutive young man with long, gray hair examines the contents of the briefcase. He picks up a jewel so red it appears to glow and brings it close to his one visible eye. “Of course I can, look who you're asking.” He sets the jewel back in the case along with the the rest of them. “It will take time, but I can replicate this no problem.” He shuts the briefcase and takes a sip from his drink. “How'd you get your hands on it, anyway?”

Chrollo folds his fingers together and rests his chin on them, eyes cast sideways at some invisible thing. Whatever it is, it makes the other man smile demurely. “Oh, that part’s not important,” he says, dismissively. He sits up to eat some more ice cream. “How much will this cost me?”

Kortopi shrugs. “I need to factor in time and supplies. We can figure that out later.”

“You’re flipping me a job?” Chrollo asks, genuinely surprised. He tilts his head to the side and narrows his eyes. “How unlike you… What's the occasion?”

“The opportunity to see these in person, of course,” Kortopi explains. “I may be a forger, but I can still appreciate the real thing, you know. You're not the only art nerd here.”

He and Chrollo share a laugh at that.

“So...?” Kortopi prods. “How'd you do it?”

Chrollo smiles sweetly and winks at him. “Chalk it up to my persuasive nature.” He scoops the last spoonful of his ice cream into his mouth before standing up and buttoning his suit jacket. “Call me when the copy is ready, won’t you?”  
  
Kortopi salutes him, milkshake still in his hand. “You're the boss!” He pets the briefcase fondly and watches the art thief saunter off.


	4. Shalnark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shal meets his blind date at Nobu's restaurant.

“So the serial numbers are all filed off and the barrels have been scoured…” There's a short pause. “You don't come cheap for a reason, that's for sure.”

Shalnark smiles. “I take pride in my work, what can I say?”

“I’ll wire your payment the usual way.” His client says. She sounds tired. “Unless…?”

“The usual way suits me fine,” he says into the receiver. “If you need me again, you know how to reach me, Paku.” He hangs up and slides the phone into his sweatshirt pocket. A quick glance around and he realizes he's covered more distance than he had originally planned. So he's early. _Great_.

Another two blocks and he's at the shitty restaurant where he agreed to meet his date. Normally, Shalnark liked to be the late arrival. Making a fashionably late entrance kept the other party guessing and offered him more control of the situation. Being early made him appear overly eager. And he wasn't. Not really.

Shal checks his reflection in the restaurant’s front window. He brushes his bangs to the side, but they sweep their way back across his forehead. He hates this haircut and he's beginning to doubt Feitan’s sincerity when he told him it looked good on him. Bangs required so much upkeep and Shalnark really prefers more low maintenance styles. Now he’s stuck with this stupid Dutch boy haircut for a blind date at a restaurant he doesn't even like. This week was just not going his way. At least he accomplished a couple of jobs and had some money coming in.

Heaving a sigh, Shalnark steels his shoulders and pushes the door to the restaurant open. He makes his way to the sushi bar in the back and takes a seat at the counter. He and his date coordinated to meet here and have a quick bite to eat together before attending some kind of prize fight.

The sushi chef returns to the counter from the kitchen and Shalnark has to bite back a laugh.

“Hey there, Nobu,” he chirps, wiggling his fingers in greeting.

Nobunaga sets his tray of gari and wasabi down with a roll of his eyes. “ _You're_ the guy?”

Shalnark shrugs. “I’m what guy?”

“My buddy arranged to meet a blind date here,” Nobu says. He starts shaping the gari into little flowers. He's all about presentation, Shalnark observes. “And since no one eats here _ever,_ I figure you must be the guy.”

Shalnark purses his lips in thought before asking Nobu the all-too important question “Is your friend rich?”

Nobu wrinkles his nose. “A potential love match and you're concerned about finances?”

“I don't want love, only money!” Shalnark declares, tapping his index finger on the tip of Nobunaga’s nose.

“Just for that, I'm charging you double,” Nobunaga grouses.

Shalnark only laughs. “He said he’d pay for dinner when we were on the phone earlier. Scamming your friend... so shameful, Nobu!”

Nobu flicks a serving of wasabi at Shalnark, smirking in victory as it lands on the blond’s lavender sweatshirt.

“This is brand new, you jerk.” Shalnark leans over the counter to retrieve a garnish to toss Nobunaga’s way when he pauses, sits back down, and starts to giggle.

Nobunaga’s eye twitches. He brandishes his knife and points it Shal’s way. “What's so damn funny?”

Shalnark points to the gari and covers his mouth. “They look like tiny vaginas.”

Nobu looks down at his handiwork and frowns. “They’re flowers, you pervert.”

Shal is about to retort when actual flowers are shoved under his nose. He peers down at the bouquet of daisies, then follows the tanned, heavily muscled arm all the way to the broad shoulders and thick neck of what he really hopes is his date. Shal’s always had a thing for athletic types and this guy is built beyond Shal’s ideal.

“Are you Uvogin?” He asks with a grin.

The large man nods and sets the flowers in Shalnark’s hand. “I am. You must be Shalnark.”

Shal offers his hand. “Charmed.” Uvo takes it and shakes it. Shal pretends to not be a little disappointed that the other man didn't kiss his hand, but the night is young.

Uvo reaches across the counter and prods the gari on Nobunaga’s prep tray. “Say, what's up with all the little vaginas, Nobu?”

Nobunaga exhales so heavily through his nose that his nostrils flare. “ _They're flowers_ ,” he insists.

Shalnark laughs and gives Uvogin a genuine smile. Maybe this week was finally starting to turn around for him.


	5. Machi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Machi and Paku entertain a late night visitor

Another Saturday night. Another party. Which means another open bar. She could really get used to this life.

She’s lighter than air and still has her sea legs about her. Heels in one hand, her clutch in the other, Machi staggers home. Her feet lead her to the left side of the walkway, her shoulders the right. She’s not too light anymore and the concrete rushes up to meet her backside. Her skirt is a little shorter than what she normally dares and small pebbles invite their way into the soft, exposed skin on the backs of her thighs.

A low, feminine chuckle behind her and then perfectly manicured hands ease their way under her armpits to help her up. “You’re helpless, love.”

Machi adores the endearment. She loves Pakunoda so much she can't bring herself to feel indignant. Even after falling down drunk in front of the most perfect woman on planet Earth-- no… the entire galaxy, it's enough for Machi if it entertains Paku. “Then help me,” Machi teases, pushing her biceps inward on Paku’s hands to guide them toward her breasts.

Paku scoffs, too classy for such displays. “Maybe when we get home,” she says, pretending to entertain the idea. She gently helps Machi to her feet and curves her hand about the pink-haired woman’s waist. “If you can make it that far.” It starts to rain. Gently at first, until a loud clap of thunder erupts overhead. The downpour is instant and has both women walking with a bit more urgency.

Machi swats Paku’s rear end. “You know I can,” she slurs.

The blonde woman smiles, amused. They manage the next few blocks to their apartment without incident. Pakunoda carefully unlocks the door while Machi leans against the door jamb, trying to look sexy. With her makeup running down her face and her hair an utter disaster, it's not exactly working in her favor.

Paku eases her way into the apartment, Machi stumbling after her. She’s caught off guard when Machi shoves her toward the couch. Paku lands on the soft cushions with a surprised squeak. “Machi--”

Machi hums and sinks to her knees in front of Paku. She crawls across the floor and pushes Paku’s wet knees apart. “What?” She asks before pressing a kiss to the inside of her lover’s thigh. When Paku only sighs, Machi takes this as a sign of encouragement. She slips her hand up under Paku’s rain-soaked skirt and rubs her fingers over the blonde’s lacy panties. “So hot for me,” she purrs.

Thunder claps outside loudly and the lights flicker for a moment.

Undeterred, Machi hooks her fingers into Paku’s panties and pulls them aside. She slides a finger up and down her slit, grinning to herself when Paku’s hips push into their attentions. “I’ve wanted to do this all night,” Machi admits as she slides a finger inside her. Paku keens and the wind outside howls and thunder rumbles outside their door.

Pakunoda’s eyes snap open and Machi bolts upright. They both glare at their front door. The insistent pounding at the door continues, even after the thunder subsides.

“Paku!” Phinks shouts outside.

Paku rights her clothes and sits up. Machi sighs and sits back on her knees. “If you just ignore it, he’ll go away,” Machi advises. She's so sick of this, of Phinks and his dramatic mess of a life. He's not even Paku’s real brother for God’s sake. Paku taps Machi’s shoulder to get her to move out of the way and Machi stands, arms folded. “He’s not staying here again, Paku.”

Paku nods and heads to the door. Machi follows closely behind. Paku opens the door a crack and Phinks already has his face in the door. He looks like shit. Well. Shittier than he has lately, anyway. And he smells like puke. The door opens wider and Machi can see Phinks is soaked to the bone. There’s vomit on his shirt and a few buttons on it are missing. The skin on his neck where he hangs his badge is red and irritated and Machi’s pretty sure he’s going to have a black eye in the morning. Oh god, and his bottom lip is trembling.

“Phinks,” Paku starts, her voice tight. Machi loves that Paku can keep herself in check like this. Had she answered the door, Machi would have told Phinks to go fuck himself and gone about her evening. Paku is such a saint, sometimes.

Hearing his name is all it seems to take to get this pathetic mess of a man break down completely. Phinks heaves a sob so heavy it forces his back to bow and he’s got to grab onto the door to remain upright. “Fei’s mad at me,” he manages. He pushes his way past the two women and into the apartment.

“So go home,” Machi offers. “You’ll make up.” She really wants him to leave. “It's not like he’ll kick you out.”

Phinks invites himself to sit at their kitchen table. He's tracking mud every fucking where. “I dunno. He's pretty pissed at me. I ain’t been home in days.” He wipes at his eyes before laying his head on the table.

Machi rolls her eyes and watches Paku pat Phinks’ messy hair. “Don't you think,” Paku says gently. “That Feitan would want to talk things through with you?”

Phinks shakes his head before hitting his forehead to the table. His shoulders shake and his hands fist into the wet material on his shoulders. He’s such a child Machi almost feels bad for him. Almost.

Paku pulls up a chair and sits beside him. “I disagree,” She tells him. “He loves you, Phinks.”

Phinks sits upright, frowning. “Don't say that,” he says, voice hoarse.  
  
“At least go home to get out of those nasty clothes,” Pakunoda suggests. “Take a shower, too.”

“He's not--” Phinks starts.

Machi slams her palms down on the table. “You live there, too. Now sack up and go home. You're a grown man, aren't you?”

“Jesus, Machi,” Paku whispers.

“No, I’m sick of this pseudo-gay drama,” Machi argues. “Unless you don't have the balls to go through with it?”

“He's a contract killer and he's pissed at me right now, Machi.” Phinks supplies. “Balls have nothing to do with it.” He sits back in the chair and folds his arms. “And what the Hell do you mean by ‘pseudo-gay’?”

Machi laughs bitterly. “Oh, I think you know.”

Paku sighs. “Machi.”

Phinks cracks his knuckles. “Oh? Do tell.”

“Phinks,” Paku cautions.

Phinks scoffs. “You're just mad I interrupted your little interlude here.”

Machi offers Phinks her middle finger.

Paku claps her hands together loudly. “Will the two of you stop?”

They do and Paku pinches the bridge of her nose before rising from her chair. “I’m going to put some water on for tea. And then I'm going to change into something more dry. Machi, I suggest you do the same.” She turns her attention to Phinks. “And you.”

Phinks points to himself.

“Take a shower. I’ll wash your clothes for you, but then you're going home. Got it?” She’s leaving no room for argument.

Phinks’ phone vibrates in his pocket. “Shit,” he mutters, pulling it out. “Hope it's not work…” He looks at his phone and reads a text, then sets his phone down and sighs. “I can just go home now and save you both the trouble.”

Paku tilts her head in curiosity.

Phinks shoves his phone across the table at her.

Paku picks the phone up and Machi peers over her shoulder to read the text as well.

_**Fei:** I’ll be staying at Shal’s for a while. Call me when you're ready to talk._

Machi frowns. “So call him.”

Phinks pushes away from the table. “Nope.”

Machi puts her hands on her hips. “This obviously bothers both of you. What the hell did you even do to piss him off so badly that he's staying at Shalnark’s? You _know_ Shal's his ex.”

Phinks shakes his head. “They're just friends now. And anyway, I wouldn't care if anything happened between them.”

Machi isn't so blind to know that's a lie. “That doesn't answer my question. What did you do?”

Phinks leans back in the chair, arms folded. “Why do you assume that I did something?”

Machi doesn't say anything, she merely stands there expecting an answer.

Phinks looks from Machi to Paku before sighing. “Fine,” he sighs. “Fei and I, we had a weird night. We had a few drinks, did some coke, I pissed him off and he flipped out on me.”

Machi watches Paku frown. She knows Paku doesn't exactly believe him either. Phinks is definitely omitting things and Machi's almost glad she doesn't know the entire story. “Well, whatever you did, I'm sure it's not anything you haven't done before,” Machi says.

Phinks flinches minutely, but Machi catches it even if Paku is too blind to see it. He grabs his phone and drops it into his back pocket. “Sorry for intruding,” he says lamely. When he stands to leave, the backs of his knees shove his chair backward, then it topples but doesn't fall.

Machi watches Pakunoda frown. “If you're not okay to drive,” Paku starts quietly.

“M’fine,” Phinks insists. “Driving ain't the issue. It's what's in the car.”

Machi quirks an eyebrow. “In the car?”

Phinks waves his hand dismissively. “Not important. Anyway, i’ll leave you two to your… Lilith Fair whatever-it-is you two do. Good night.” He heads for the door and leaves as abruptly as he arrived.

Paku shuts the door the rest of the way and locks all the locks for good measure. When she turns back to face Machi she smiles apologetically. “I’m sorr-”

“Stop apologizing for him,” Machi interrupts. She runs a frustrated hand through her hair, grimacing when it gets stuck in the wet mass. “I'm going to bed.” She stalks toward their bedroom, not bothering to check if Paku is tailing her.

 


	6. Chrollo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chrollo has a knack for getting precisely what he wants, from Silva especially.

His eyes slowly drift shut as he enjoys the sweet, boneless feeling overtake him. It's much cooler than it was a few minutes ago, and he chalks this up to the sweat cooling on his naked body. He reaches over head and relishes in a languorous stretch, the tips of his fingers brushing the cold metal of the headboard. “I’m cold,” he complains, projecting his voice loudly enough for it to carry to the adjoining bathroom.

When he doesn't get a response, Chrollo sits up in the giant bed and huffs. He gathers the silk sheet about himself and drapes it over his head before climbing out of bed. He shuffles across the plush carpet on his bare feet, sheet gathered at the front of his chest. “Silva,” he coos, pressing the top of his head to the much bigger man’s back. “Can you turn the heat up?”

Silva spits mouthwash into the sink and runs the tap for a moment to wash it down the drain. “Its plenty warm in here,” is the response Chrollo feels as much as he hears. “Stop pretending to be so delicate.”

Chrollo pouts and winds his arms about the other man’s waist. He presses his cheek to Silva’s back and huffs a sigh. “Delicate like that wife of yours, hmm?”

Silva pushes back from the sink and against Chrollo before treading over to the bathroom’s spacious tub. He twists the tap and plugs the drain before turning to face the thief. “There’s nothing delicate about Kikyo. You know that as well as anyone else on this ship.”

“So cute, calling the boat a ship,” Chrollo teases him. His finger traces the deep valley between Silva’s pectorals. “Shall I call you ‘captain’?”

The silver-haired man swats his finger away. “I spared no expense on this ship. For you. Don't insult me by calling it a ‘boat’.” He watches Chrollo tighten his grip on the sheet at the center of his chest while his fingers opt to walk over the various soaps and oils on the small table by the tub. “And feigning jealousy doesn't suit you.”

Chrollo plucks the lavender bottle up and pretends to read the label. “Who's feigning?” He twists the cap on the bottle and overturns it, squeezing its contents into the running water.

Silva sighs and approaches Chrollo from behind. He winds one arm about the thief’s waist, the other his chest. “What do I have to do,” he asks into Chrollo’s sex mussed hair. “To prove to you that there’s no need for jealousy?”

Chrollo leans back into the older man’s embrace. He drops the bottle into the tub, the suds from the soap rising much higher than the water. The soothing scent of lavender fills his nostrils and he almost succumbs to Silva’s grip. 

Almost.

“I've already told you,” Chrollo says, dropping the sheet. He tilts his head to the side, baring his neck. “I want those Eyes.” 

Silva growls “Then, they're yours” before sinking his teeth into Chrollo’s neck.

Chrollo purrs and wraps his long fingers over Silva’s wrists. “Bring them to me," Chrollo gasps. "Right now.”

The silver-haired man hesitates. He nuzzles his nose behind Chrollo’s ear, nudging at the gaudy earrings he’d bestowed Chrollo with earlier that evening. “Right now?”

Chrollo presses his backside to Silva’s front and tilts his hips suggestively. “Unless you don't want to?” He has a knack, he likes to think, for getting precisely what he wants from Silva.

Silva chuckles darkly, nipping at Chrollo’s ear. The bauble clinks against his teeth and he exhales hard through his nose, the sensation tickling Chrollo enough to make him wiggle away. 

Chrollo turns to face Silva, eyes dark and lashes fluttering against his cheeks. “Silva,” he croons, hands sliding up the older man’s chest.

Silva hoists Chrollo from the floor into the tub. “Don't order me around like I'm your pet,” he tells Chrollo as he shuts off the faucet. He pinches Chrollo’s chin and forces him to meet his eyes. “Understand?”

Chrollo merely pouts in response. 

“I’ll… be back in a few hours,” Silva says, frustrated. “You’ll get your Eyes.”

Chrollo dares a hopeful look. “Silva, thank you.” He scoots to the edge of the tub and clasps Silva’s hand in two of his own. “I can't wait,” he kisses Silva’s knuckles, then tugs his hand down. The larger man kneels down and their lips meet briefly. “I’ll thank you properly once you come home,” Chrollo promises.

Silva stands fully and swipes some of the suds from the soap over Chrollo’s head. “I’ll be as quick as I can. Be ready for me.”

Chrollo shivers, excited. “I will,” he says before biting his bottom lip.

Silva dresses, then leaves. Once he's gone a few minutes, Chrollo rises from the tub and dries himself. He strolls through the bedroom, picking his discarded clothing from the floor as he heads for his closet. He drops the dirty clothes into the hamper, then slips on a purple silk robe. He smirks to himself before grabbing his phone from the bedside table. He scrolls through his contacts before pressing the call button.

“Hope it's not a bad time,” he says by way of greeting once his contact answers. “I have a job you might be interested in…” He regards his black-tipped fingernails before he continuing.


	7. Uvogin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uvo and Shal's date is interrupted

Shalnark bites his bottom lip and looks up at Uvogin through his bangs. “I had fun tonight,” he says airily, his hands running over the expanse of Uvo’s chest.

Uvogin gives a lopsided grin. “Me too,” he agrees.

Shal lets his hands fall to his sides before taking Uvo’s gigantic hands into his own. He swings their clasped hands back and forth before placing the bigger man’s hands on his rear end. “Wanna come inside?”

Uvo’s a simple guy, but he knows a double entendre when he hears one. He squeezes the blond’s ass, answering him with an enthusiastic “Hell yeah.”

Shalnark laughs lightly and pulls Uvo’s face down to his own. He nudges Uvo’s nose with his own before pressing their lips together. He even has the grace to produce a surprised gasp when Uvo’s tongue pushes it's way into his mouth.

Uvogin hears Shalnark fiddling with his keys, then feels him twist away slightly to get the door to his apartment unlocked. He decides to help and reaches for the doorknob, pushing the door open. Once inside, Shal presses his body tighter against him and the larger man lifts the blond and holds him up by his ass since its the most polite thing Uvo can think to do in that moment.

“Bedroom,” Uvo growls and Shalnark giggles lightly, wrapping his legs about Uvo’s middle.

“Hey, stop here for a sec,” Shalnark says before hopping out of Uvo’s hold. He opens a drawer on his coffee table and grabs a small bottle from inside it. He presents it to Uvogin, wiggling it with a smirk. “We’re going to need this if we’re gonna fuuuu-eitan, what are you doing here?”

Uvo’s attention is drawn to a short man clad in all black. He’s lying curled in a ball on Shalnark’s couch. He didn't even see the guy until his date pointed him out.

Feitan rolls onto his back. “Phinks and I aren't speaking right now. I couldn't stay at home.”

“You two are just… You know, your timing is the worst,” Shal complains, turning a lamp on.

“Should I go?” Uvo asks.

Shal turns and shakes his head rapidly. “No, of course not. Sorry. Uvogin, this is Feitan. Feitan, Uvogin.”

“Hi,” Uvo says, awkwardly stepping behind the back of the couch to conceal his (dwindling) excited state.

Feitan waves vaguely. “Charmed.”

“Are you sure you can't go home?” Shal asks helpfully.

Feitan shakes his head. “I will probably kill him if I do.”

Shal laughs. “What, like for real?”

“Like, for real,” Feitan confirms. 

“But he's like… Your guy,” Shal says.

“He's not my guy, he's not my anything. He's made that clear enough times,” Feitan grouses. “I’m lacking the correct equipment for him.”

“Bullshit,” Shal barks. “Go home and make up, right now.”

“Shal.”

“Fei.”

Feitan sighs. “Just for tonight, please.” 

Please seems like it's a word Feitan rarely uses. 

Shalnark raises his palms up at the smaller man, surrendering. “Fine,” he sighs. “But, ah, don't expect us to be quiet.” He hazards a glance at Uvogin, who winks. 

“Of course not, this is you we’re talking about,” Feitan says, lying back down and curling into his ball. “Turn off the light, will you?”

Uvo pulls the chain on the lamp and the room goes dark. Shalnark leads him to his bedroom and slams the door shut behind him.


	8. Feitan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being in love makes you stupid, Feitan decides.

  
The slam of a door wakes Phinks with a start. He glances about the darkened bedroom and is about to drift back off to sleep when the door to the room opens. A stripe of harsh LED lighting passes across the floor and onto the bed. Phinks squeezes his eyes shut and throws his arm over his face.

“You're in my bed again,” Feitan says softly. It's an accusation, but it's also not.

Phinks groans, blindly groping about the bed until he finds a pillow. He places it over his face to block the light out. “Either shut the door or turn that damn light off,” he complains.

Feitan sighs and leaves the room to shut the hallway light off. When he returns, Phinks can hear the rustle of his clothes as he disrobes for bed. There’s a brief chill as the blankets are pulled back, then warmth once Feitan crawls into the bed with him.

“Move over, stupid,” Feitan says, shoving at Phinks’ shoulder. A gravelly groan is all he gets in answer. When he removes the pillow from Phinks’ face, the other man grabs both his wrists. “What?”

“You were out really late,” Phinks says. His grip eases, fingers stroking the insides of Feitan’s wrists. “What took you so long?”

“Don't tell me you were worried.”

Phinks lets go of one of Feitan’s wrists to pull the smaller man closer. Close enough to touch, but the implied barrier is definitely there. Feitan doesn't fight him, Phinks is rarely one for snuggling. Something must be wrong. He chooses to ignore the warning siren going off in his head, and instead scoots close enough for their lower halves to touch, should Phinks initiate contact. Feitan silently prays to every god he can think of that Phinks will.

“I wasn't worried,” Phinks says honestly. “You can handle yourself. It's more that you were gone longer than you usually are for a contract. Wasn't it here in town?”

“It was,” Feitan says simply. Too many details and Phinks will fixate on them, trying to find a lie where there isn't one. “I had a partner tonight and they slowed me down, is all.”

“Shal?” Phinks asks and Feitan can hear the envy in his voice.

Feitan shakes his head. “He doesn't do this anymore. He's more of a behind-the-scenes guy, now. Not Shal, though. Someone new. A kid, practically. Real wet behind the ears. Dramatic, too.”

“Sounds annoying,” Phinks complains. “If I have to be the one to answer the call on the body, you owe me big time.” His arm pulls Feitan closer to his chest, forcing the smaller man to rest his head in the crook of his shoulder. Feitan squeezes his thighs together, fighting the urge to drape one of his legs over one of Phinks’.

Feitan isn't moved by Phinks’ hollow threat. The blond hasn't followed through on any sort of thinly-veiled flirtation in their decade-long friendship. He stupidly allows Phinks to string him along, however. Being in love makes you stupid, Feitan decides. “It wasn’t that messy,” Feitan assures him.

Phinks merely hums in response. Feitan hazards curling closer to him, pressing his nose to Phinks’ chest. He asks him “Why are you in my bed?”

“More comfortable than mine,” Phinks explains.

“You weren't waiting for me?” Feitan asks.

Phinks takes a long time to answer him. “I dunno. Maybe I was. I mean, I guess.” He rolls onto his side to face Feitan. He's hesitant, but Phinks eventually lets his hand rest in the dip of Feitan’s waist, just above the swell of his hip.“If I were?”

“It would be kinda sweet,” Feitan tells him. He's careful. If things get ‘too gay,’ as Phinks says, he’ll bolt. It's taken Feitan _years_ to get this far. “If you were waiting, I mean.”

Phinks laughs, low and quiet. “There’s nothing sweet about me, Fei,” his hand makes a slow trail from Feitan’s waist, up across his ribs, then back down again.

Feitan wants to push his hips forward, press himself against Phinks. He can't spook him, though. Phinks’ warm hand leaves a burn in its wake and Feitan feels like he's shaking. It's taking every ounce of self-control he can muster to not rub against the blond, to not shove him down and straddle him. To not... to just _not_. Any sign of arousal and Phinks will jump out of this bed, he knows. His skin is on fire and his nerves are singing and it's such an effort to control his breathing.

Phinks is so unfair. All exchanges like these are on his terms and it's never enough and it's everything and Feitan can't fucking stand it. Whatever Feitan says or does is going to set the tone for their interactions for the next few days and he hates that he can't be genuine. He lifts a hand and brushes his fingertips across Phinks’ jaw. The other man starts, just barely, but Feitan notices it. His hand freezes. Fuck. Please don’t…

Phinks nudges his jaw into Feitan’s hand and if he hears Feitan’s relieved sigh, he doesn't show it. Long, pale fingers trace the tanned jawline from the stubbly chin to the soft earlobe and back again. Feitan’s thumb brushes Phinks’ cheekbone, traces its way down to brush Phinks’ mouth. The taller man’s lips are soft, and slightly chapped and Feitan has an internal crisis when Phinks kisses his thumb.

What will he be okay with? How far is too far? Should he kiss him? Fuck, he's so close he can feel the warmth radiating from Phinks’ body.

“I feel like I wanna kiss you,” Phinks whispers. His hand stops it's maddening trail up Feitan’s body, resting on his shoulder.

Feitan feels like he's going to die. He can't breathe, he can't see. “You can,” he chokes out. “Whenever you want.” Shit, that might have been too much. The next thing he knows, Phinks is pushing his hair away from his face. There’s a chaste press of Phinks’ mouth to his own and amidst his panic, Feitan opens his mouth to gasp for air. His lips pull Phinks’ mouth open and when the blond’s tongue shyly licks at his bottom lip, Feitan is a goner.

Phinks moans softly and Feitan is pretty sure it's the greatest noise in all of creation. He won't move or touch Phinks for fear of scaring him away, but the other man is less than shy in his actions. “You're so warm, Fei,” Phinks says and Feitan isn't sure how to respond without things moving into the Too Gay For Phinks Zone. Truth is, he's burning up from the inside out and he's so hard he could cry.

The kissing gets increasingly bolder, to the point where Phinks hovers over Feitan. He takes the smaller man’s wrists in one hand and pins them overhead. He’s taken to holding Feitan’s mouth open by pulling his bottom lip down with his thumb. He kisses him hard, with his tongue and his teeth, and Feitan loves him all the more for it. How long has he been waiting to do this?

Phinks moves his free hand down Feitan’s arm, over his shoulder to his chest. His thumb brushes Feitan’s nipple and the smaller man gasps and wriggles beneath him. He presses his mouth to Feitan’s ear and whispers “That feel good?” Feitan can only nod in response. Emboldened, Phinks spreads Feitan’s legs with his knees and settles between them. “You look so fuckin’ hot, dude,” he says.

Feitan _is_ hot. His blood is practically boiling. He's a shivering, sweaty mess and Phinks hasn’t done much more than fucking kiss him, for god’s sake. He feels Phinks hand on his knee before it moves toward his inner thigh. The blond drags his blunt nails upward until he reaches the leg of Feitan’s shorts. Feitan bucks his hips in response.

Phinks releases Feitan’s wrists and pulls his hand from his thigh. He sits up on his knees and utters “Oh, shit,” and it's the worst noise in the entire fucking universe.

Things have gotten Too Gay.

Feitan watches Phinks scramble from the bed. He tips his head back and covers his face with both hands. He doesn't bother to say anything this time, he just lets him go.

“I forgot I'm on patrol tonight,” Phinks huffs accompanied by the rustling of the clothes he's no doubt putting on.

Feitan peeks through his fingers at the blond. “What?”

“I’m not off ‘til tomorrow morning. I have the graveyard shift tonight. For some reason, I thought last night was my last shift ‘til my day off. It's tonight.” Phinks says. He loops his badge over his neck and hastily holsters his pistol.

“Okay?” Feitan isn't sure where Phinks is going with this.

“Wanna ride along?” Phinks asks, and Feitan feels like he's imagining the hopeful tone in his voice. “We can still hang out, if you want.”

“Sure,” Feitan says before thinking twice. He's up and out of the bed and re-dressing, still ignoring the warning siren going off in his head. Phinks has always been louder than the alarm.

“Nice. Let’s get some coke and a 40,” Phinks says. He always does coke on his overnights.

“Let’s,” Feitan agrees, hoping at some point they can revisit the evening’s earlier activities. He follows Phinks out the front door of their apartment. In a few hours, he’ll have wished he stayed home.


	9. Baise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one's pretty short, but important.

“Another one?” Hisoka sighs, disappointed. He pops a piece of gum into his mouth.

Baise nods as she files the nails on his right hand. She's sharpening them into the pointed, claw-looking fashion he's taken to recently. “The second one in as many months,” she says. She sets the nail file down and grabs the buffer. “It's like they decide to stop coming home after he hires them a few times. It makes no sense.”

Hisoka chews, frowning. “It makes plenty sense, my dear.”

Baise tilts her head. “What do you mean?”

“Isn't it obvious?” Hisoka asks. “He's killing them.”

The buffer hits the tiled floor. These women were more than co-workers to Baise. They were sisters. Family. To know they were murdered by a fucking cop… Her fists clench and her acrylic fingernails dig into her palms. “He's-”

“My best customer,” Hisoka supplies.

“He's killing your best girls,” Baise argues.

Hisoka says nothing, merely glances at the buffer on the floor. Baise takes the hint and picks it up to buff the nails on his proffered hand. “What do you propose I do, pet?” He asks.

Baise narrows her eyes, glaring at these stupid fucking fingernails. She buffs his nails roughly, pushing his fingers back and forth. “Let me be his next regular girl,” she suggests. “I’ll take care of him.”

Hisoka hums. “It _would_ make sense to protect my investments. I don't really think you could handle him, though.”

“I have this special lipstick. It's poi-”

“He won't kiss you.” Hisoka says, then he has an epiphany. “However, he has been known to bring a friend with him from time to time…”

Baise sets the buffer down and grabs a small, stainless steel tool. “Should I kiss his friend?” She's not sure where Hisoka is going with this. Pushing Hisoka’s cuticles back, she frowns. “Though I suppose it's an eye for an eye.”

Hisoka smiles. “No dear. His friend is a contractor.”

“We just re-did the main lobby. Do we really need to hire another contractor?” Baise asks.

“Silly girl,” Hisoka laughs. “Not that sort of contractor. A _contractor_. I've hired him a few times. He's ruthless, but effective. And a mean little shit.”

“Oh,” Baise pushes back another cuticle. “So you'd hire his own friend to kill him?” She sets her tool down and squirts a generous amount of lotion onto Hisoka’s hand. “That's pretty genius.” She begins rubbing the lotion into Hisoka’s hand while massaging it.

“I know,” Hisoka beams. He blows a bubble and titters excitedly when it pops.

Baise does her best to keep her expression neutral as she finishes her hand massage. “What nights does he usually come by?”

“Tuesdays, if the guestbook is anything to go by,” Hisoka says, snapping the gum in his mouth. “Be ready for him tomorrow night, okay?”

Baise nods. “He’ll regret coming here for sure.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scream at me about HxH on tumblr: lipstick-lounge


	10. Phinks II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cash bars ruin everything.

**Tuesday (2:36 am) Fei:** I’ll be staying at Shal’s for a while. Call me when you want to talk.

 **Tuesday (11:11 pm) Me:** Come home. Please.

 **Wednesday (3:44 am) Me:** Fei.I fuckd up I get it..

 **Thursday (10:55 am) Me:** I got rid of The Thing from That Night.

 **Thursday (5:04 pm) Me:** How's Shal doing? You still staying there?

 **Thursday (8:16 pm) Me:** Look, I ain't perfect. I know that. And you deserve better. I know that, too.

 **Friday (12:22 am) Me:** At least pick up your phone i tried calling you 4x today. The fuck. Didn't you want me to call you when I wanted to talk well I didFOUR TIMES!!!!!!!

 **Friday (4:10 am) Me:** OK you fu8ckin coward at least comeget your shit and mve the fuck out so I can rent your god damn rom out, you cant ignore me forer

 **Friday (2:13 pm) Me:** Listen, I don't have an apology, if that's what you're looking for. I know you wouldn't accept one if I had one, anyway. But I miss you and I want you to come home.

 **Friday (2:13 pm) Me:** Please. I'm fucking falling apart. I haven't slept. I can't eat. I'm just about out of yay and I haven't stopped drinking. The worst part is your fucking bed still smells like you. You’re killing me.

 **Saturday (7:40 pm) Me:** I’ll be at that Zoldyck thing tonight in case you're trying to avoid me.

“Are you gonna quit playing on your phone?” Machi asks. “You've been on it since you got here.” She looks up from her compact, closing it once her lipstick is applied.

Phinks looks up from his phone’s screen. “What?”

Machi rolls her eyes and slides into her shoes. “Never mind.” She pulls her shawl around her shoulders, letting it drape at the crook of her elbows. “Are you ready to go?”

Phinks shrugs. “Waiting on you, babe.”

Machi spreads her arms and gives him a turn. “This dress look okay?”

“I guess,” he offers. What's he supposed to do? Tell his sister’s girlfriend that she’s hot? He's been through enough this week. Machi kicking his ass isn't on his to-do list.

They climb into Phinks’ police cruiser and head to the dockyard. Silva Zoldyck is throwing some lavish party tonight to christen his new yacht, _the Lucilfer_. A stupid name if Phinks ever heard one.

“How’d you score an invite to this shindig anyway, Machi?” Phinks asks.

She frowns and tugs her shawl tighter about her shoulders. “I've done some off-the-books work for Silva here and there. Patching his guys up, that kind of thing. You?”

“Let’s just say I know which calls to take my sweet time responding to,” he says. He pulls into the valet and they climb out of the car. Phinks offers Machi is arm and she pretends not to see it, opting to walk ahead of him. He makes like he’s tugging on the bottom of his sport coat to recover from the diss.

“Welcome aboard _the Lucilfer_ ,” one of the staff greets the pair. “Tonight Mister Silva Zoldyck honors--”

“Where's the bar?” Phinks cuts him off.

“The cash bar is upstairs and toward the back,” he responds.

Machi rolls her eyes while Phinks huffs.

“Cash bar?” Phinks complains. “Who the hell carries cash these days? And these things are usually open bar. Why the change?”

The staff person shakes his head and puts his hands up in surrender. “This is the first time my catering agency is running a function for Mister Zoldyck. He must have specified cash bar.”

Phinks grabs the guy by his stupid clip-on bow tie. “I don't care if it's your agency’s _tenth_ time sucking my _dick_ , sweetheart.”

“Phinks! Jesus…” Machi grabs his arm and pulls him off the staff. “Sorry about him,” she apologizes, ushering him away. “What is your damage?” She asks, smacking him in the chest with her clutch. “You’re gonna get us kicked out of here!”

“Ooh, look who it is,” someone says behind them. Machi freezes and Phinks glances over his shoulder. Great.

“Hello, Hisoka,” Machi says, teeth clenched.

Hisoka wastes no time grabbing Machi’s hand and kissing her knuckles. “Machi. You look enchanting this evening.”

“Oh, well,” Machi starts. “You look the same. Except for that,” she nods to his bandaged hand.

Hisoka giggles, fucking giggles, and regards Phinks. “You’ve looked better, officer. Your little Plus One is up at the bar, last I saw him. I can see how it would be easy to lose him in a crowd, though.”

Phinks merely grunts in response. He's always hated this guy. He's met Hisoka a few times while out with Feitan. Hisoka’s always had a mess for Feitan to clean up for him. “I was heading that way anyway,” he grumbles before leaving Machi to fend for herself.

He climbs the spiral staircase upstairs to the deck and elbows and shoves his way to the bar at the stern of the vessel. It's crowded, but Phinks is taller than most people here and he spots Feitan easily enough at the corner of the bar. There’s nowhere to sit, so he opts to stand behind the other man.

“Hey Fei,” he says lowly, mouth above the other’s ear.

If Feitan is surprised by Phinks’ presence, he doesn't bother showing it. “What are you doing here?” He sips his drink, not bothering to turn and face him.

“I was invited,” Phinks says simply. He stands beside where Feitan is sitting with his back to the bar. He leans back, elbows propped against the bar top. “You?”

“I was invited as well,” Feitan answers.

Phinks nods and pretends to survey the crowd, but if he's honest with himself, he's fishing for something to say. He hazards a glance to the clear drink in Feitan’s hand. “What are you drinking?” he asks. It’s familiar, easy territory.

Feitan regards him coolly. “Water,” he offers. “You should try it sometime.”

Phinks grins at that. “Too wet.” It's quiet for a beat, and awkwardly so. “Fei, look, I--”

“Not here,” Feitan interrupts him. “I don't want to talk about this here.”

Phinks frowns and grabs Feitan by the shoulder. “Why not? It's kind of important.” The blond catches the fist headed for his stomach. “We can't keep this up. It's gotta be addressed. Don't you want to settle this… this whatever it is that's going on between us?” He brushes his thumb over Feitan’s knuckles. “It's been a really shitty week, you know?”

“I said _‘Not here’_ ,” Feitan repeats himself. “I’m working right now,” he says quietly.

“Now?” Phinks asks. He continues, whispering. “Is it someone on the ship?”

“That's on a need-to-know basis,” Feitan says flatly. He brushes Phinks’ hand from his shoulder. “I’ll come find you when I'm done,” he promises. “We can talk then.”

Phinks nods. “Okay,” he says, the heavy burden he's been dragging with him feeling slightly lighter.

“Until later, then,” Feitan says, backing away from the bar. He turns away before Phinks can respond, presumably to murder someone on the ship.

“Later,” Phinks says to himself. He scans the room again, impatience coupled with anxiety coiling in the pit of his stomach. What the hell is he even going to say? Phinks laughs at himself. This is going to be a shitshow. He needs a cigarette.

He pushes himself away from the bar and pushes his way none-too politely through the crowd. The deck is full of party goers and he'd love to have some privacy. It's by sheer chance he finds a staircase tucked into a small alcove. Phinks climbs it, hoping he doesn't come across a couple seeking some privacy of their own, or worse: Feitan ‘working’.

At the top of the staircase is a smaller, private deck. He can see the entire lower deck and most of the pier from this vantage point. Phinks briefly wonders what the fuck a “Lucilfer” is and why Silva Zoldyck decided to name a boat after one as he lights his cigarette. He pockets his lighter and pulls his phone out. He’s half way through thumbing the word “Lucilfer” into the search engine when something cold and hard presses into the small of his back.

Phinks has been in this position countless times. He knows the feel of a gun to his back better than he’d care to admit to anyone, even Feitan. Phinks lifts his eyes to the inky sky and heaves a smoke-laden sigh, dropping his cigarette. “Of course this would happen while I'm sober,” he complains.

The safety on the gun behind him clicks. “On your knees, please.”

“Who's the job for, Fei?” Phinks asks, kneeling.

“Not important,” Feitan says softly.

“What are they paying you?”

Feitan huffs. “Also not important.”

Phinks chuckles bitterly. “For such an unimportant job, you're sure as fuck committed to it.” He makes to grab his pistol from the holster under his arm, but Feitan catches it and kicks him. Hard. “Fei, what the fuck...”

The pistol situates itself at the base of Phinks’ skull. “You're not making this any easier,” Feitan says, voice thick.

“If it makes you feel better, you know I’ve had this coming, Fei. I’m a piece of shit. I don't even deserve the bottom of your boot. Put me out of my fucking misery.” Phinks sighs. “I’m sorry.”

“Except you’re _not_ ,” Feitan argues. “Do you think I want to do this?” He lowers the firearm. “I know you never wanted me, but...”

“It’s not that. It's that I’m not worthy of you,” Phinks corrects him. His hands fist in the material of his slacks. “I’m a shitty brother, a terrible friend, a joke of a cop... and I _wanted_ to love you, I tried.”

“I know that, stupid,” Feitan whispers, knowing his voice will crack if he doesn’t.  
  
“I’ll be ready for you next time,” Phinks say weakly. “I promise. Make sure you're ready, too.”

Feitan lets out a shaky exhale, weapon repositioned at the back of Phinks’ head. “Anything else?”

“Tell Paku I’m sorry. Machi, too, even though I know she hates me.”

Feitan nods and pulls the slide back on the pistol. “I will.”

Phinks closes his eyes and leans his head back onto the gun’s barrel. “Til next time, then.”

“Next time,” Feitan agrees, finger on the trigger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :o


	11. Chrollo II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chrollo has a meeting that could definitely have gone better.

“Pretty, right?” He says.

Hisoka lifts the jewel and inspects it carefully. “Kurta Eyes are extremely rare,” he says, appraising it between a thumb and forefinger. “How'd you get these?”

Chrollo smiles and shrugs. “Silva’s got a taste for the finer things in life.”

Hisoka rolls his eyes. “Finer things being yourself?”

“Flirting doesn't work on me, Hisoka,” Chrollo says. “Now, about that hit-”

“I won’t call it off,” Hisoka interrupts him. “He’s killed _three_ of my girls at this point. Besides, even if I wanted to, I've already paid for it and your friend doesn't do refunds.” He shuts the briefcase and shoves it across the table.

“I can't move these unless I go through the cop. His sister won't touch anything this valuable without his assurance the police won't come looking for it. If he dies, we’re both screwed.” Chrollo warns him. He frowns and covers one of Hisoka’s hands with his own. “We stand to make three times what you paid Feitan. You don't even want to try? For my sake?”

“That cute puppy act might work on your sugar daddy, but you know me better than that, Chrollo,” Hisoka says dismissively. “Besides, it's the principle of the matter. Three of my girls, remember?”

Chrollo sighs and picks the briefcase up as he stands. “I don't want to go to war, Hisoka.”

Hisoka laughs, flicking his wrist. “You say that as if you could beat me.”

Chrollo is on him, lightning-quick. His knees on either side of Hisoka’s thighs, Chrollo closes a hand around the other man’s throat. “You've been chasing after me for a while now. Maybe it's time I give you what you want, hmm?”

Hisoka raises a hand to Chrollo, but Chrollo is quicker. He twists the other’s wrist behind his own back before reaching back with his free hand. When he pivots slightly in Hisoka’s lap, Chrollo is disgusted to find he's hard. Pulling a knife from the sheath at the small of his back, Chrollo thrusts the weapon through Hisoka’s hand.

“It's a shame it came to this,” Chrollo tuts, climbing off the other’s lap. He wipes the blood on his hand all over Hisoka’s torso.

Hisoka is quiet for a moment before a depraved laugh chokes it's way from his throat.

Chrollo says nothing as he leaves the brothel, a laughing Hisoka in his wake. When he gets to his car, he pulls his phone out and hits redial. “Change of plans,” he breathes, frustrated.


	12. Feitan II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breakfast at Shalnark's.

Shalnark slams a fist on the kitchen table. “Hisoka hired you to _what_?”

Feitan’s eyes remain fixed on the contents of his coffee mug. “To… kill Phinks. The night he OD’ed I was supposed to off him.”

At the stove, Uvogin whistles low as he flips a pancake in the frying pan. “Does he know?”

“Of course not,” Feitan says. “I never tell him about my marks, no matter how much he's ever prodded for it.”

“Will you do it?” Shal asks. He folds his arms on the tabletop and rest his chin in the juncture of his wrists. “The hit, I mean.”

“Its a job,” Feitan says after a moment’s hesitation. “And Hisoka’s really keen on me finishing it.”

“That wasn't my question, Fei,” Shalnark teases. “And besides, it's a little different when the mark is your guy, no?”

Feitan rolls his eyes. “He’s not _my guy_ , I wish you’d stop calling him that… And anyway, I haven't decided.” He goes to take a sip of his coffee when his phone vibrates. It's another desperate text from Phinks. _I got rid of The Thing from That Night._ Way to be subtle. “I’m angry with him, but like I said, I haven't decided.”

“Time is of the essence, you know,” Shal suggests.

“Yeah, ain't that Zoldyck party in a couple days?” Uvo asks, joining them at the table.

“It is,” Feitan confirms.

“Its a safe bet he’ll be there,” the blond tells him. “Maybe you two can talk face to face about all this then?”

Feitan eyes his phone. “Maybe.”

As if he willed it himself, Feitan’s phone rings.

Uvogin and Shalnark look at him expectantly.

“What?” Feitan asks.

The phone continues to ring.

“Aren't you going to answer?” Uvogin asks. For a guy who’s only known him for three days, he's awfully invested in Feitan’s life.

Feitan slides the phone across the table. “I'm not.” He sips his coffee, pointedly looking away from the phone.

Shalnark hazards a look at the caller ID screen “But it's Phinks.”

“I know.” Feitan rolls his eyes. “That's why I'm not picking up.”

“But you need to talk to him,” Shal says.

Feitan shrugs. “Not if I don’t want to.” _Or I'm not ready to._

Uvo frowns. “You two are close, at least from what I've seen and heard over the last couple days. He at least deserves to know what's going on,” he says before shoveling a helping of pancakes into his mouth.

“Speaking of the last couple days, do you ever plan on going home?” Feitan snits.

Shalnark sighs. “I could say the same for you, Fei.” He dabs at the corner of his mouth with a napkin. “Uvo is my guest, same as you. And if you weren't so hung up on this gay murder drama with your guy, you wouldn't even feel the need to be here.”

Feitan sets his coffee cup down. “I _told_ you, he’s not my guy, Shal.”

“Oho?” Shalnark counters, pulling his phone out. He punches through the screens before holding it in front of himself, dramatically. He clears his throat.

“What are you--” is all Feitan can get out before Shalnark’s performance begins.

_“Feitan: He's such an asshole, honestly. I have the worst taste in men, Shal._

_Me: Gee thanks_

_Feitan: You don't count, we’re still friends. And anyway, you and I never lived together. He just walks around without a shirt on all the time and it's slowly killing me._

_Me: Go on_

_Feitan: You know those little dimples you see on guys’ lower backs sometimes? Like right above their asses? He’s got them and they're just… hot._

_Me: Nice_

_Feitan: He's gotta be doing this on purpose._ ”

“That was months ago!” Feitan shouts, grabbing for the phone.

Shal is too fast and ducks behind Uvo. “So you want something more recent? I can make that happen for you! Let’s see…”

Feitan’s phone rings again.

“Jesus,” Feitan complains.

“Is it Phinks?” Shal asks from behind Uvo.

“Should I answer?” Uvo asks.

“NO,” Shal and Fei answer.

“It might make Phinks jealous, though…” Shal says thoughtfully. “Another man answering his guy’s phone.”

“He’s _not_ my guy!” Feitan protests once again.

“Ah! Here’s a good one!” Shalnark announces, wiggling his phone.

“ _Feitan: So... We just made out_

_Me: Finally_

_Feitan: He got out of here in a hurry when things got too gay, though._

_Me: Define ‘too gay’_

_Feitan: Like ‘almost touched my dick’ too gay._

_Me: W H A T. WHY_

_Feitan: He said he suddenly remembered that he had to work. Lame, right?_

_Me: It's Phinks, of course it's lame._

_Feitan: He wants me to ride along with him._

_Me: After all that? Maybe he's not as ‘not into you’ as you think?_

_Feitan: He wants to go to a whorehouse._

_Me: …_

_Feitan: I KNOW._

_Me: Why are you doing this to yourself? Do you love to suffer?_

_Feitan: Probably. Also I might be in love with him?_

_Me: FEI NO_

_Feitan: I KNOW._ ”

“Thank you Shal, for putting me on blast,” Feitan complains, hiding his face in his hands.

“Oh, it's just Uvo, you think he cares? He doesn't even _know_ Phinks.” Shal says dismissively. Uvo merely shrugs, his mouth too full to speak.

Feitan opens his mouth to remark on his blond friend’s lack of tact when his phone rings again. All eyes lock on his mobile device and when Feitan sees the caller ID screen, he snatches it from the table.

“Yes,” he answers, standing and walking away from the table.

“Change of plans,” his caller says, sounding exasperated.

“What happened?” Feitan asks.

“The clown won't budge on the hit,” Chrollo says. He never uses names on the phone, but Feitan knows he's talking about Hisoka. “This is bad for both of us,” he expounds. “If I can't move these Eyes, I'm under _daddy’s_ thumb for a very long time.” He sounds frustrated and stuck and Feitan has never known Chrollo to be either of those things.

“I thought you enjoyed all the attention,” Feitan teases.

“He bought me a ship and named the silly thing after me.” Chrollo complains. “I feel smothered,” he adds quietly.

“So, what do I do about the cop?” Feitan asks. Half of him doesn't want to know.

“I still need him alive. You know his sister is the most reliable fence in town, but she would never touch anything hot until she gets the green light from him.”

“And the clown?”

“I’ll handle him,” Chrollo says, confident. “When he and I last spoke, things, ah… escalated a bit. Just keep your cop away from him.”

 _My cop?_ “Got it, danchou,” Feitan says before hanging up. He looks to Shal and Uvo’s direction and they're both staring at him. “What?”

“Who’s ‘danchou’?” Shalnark asks.

Feitan shrugs. “Not important.”

“Important enough you're calling him danchou,” Uvogin comments.

“Moving on so soon?” Shal asks, teasing.

Feitan has the grace to blush. “It's not like that. It's just what I've always called him.”

“So he knows Phinks?”

“Yes, Shal. He knows Phinks. Everybody does.” Feitan says, annoyance creeping up on him.

“I don't,” Uvo offers.

Feitan sighs. “The job’s been… compromised.”

“Compromised good, or compromised bad?” Shal asks.

Feitan sinks down onto Shalnark’s couch and bunches his hands in the material of his pants. “I don't really know yet.”

A tense silence fills the small apartment before Uvo breaks the tension.

“Anyone want more pancakes?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this complicates things.


End file.
